Between the Lines
by rhetoricfemme
Summary: Upon her graduation from law school, Takashi has a present for Haruhi. Oneshot!


As per usual, I own no part of Ouran High School Host Club.

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A lifetime of closing ceremonies behind her, Haruhi stood in place and grinned as the people she cared for most gathered near to celebrate the end of her academic career. Between photos and handshakes she reminisced at the faces around her. Some had seen her grow up while others had grown alongside her. Posing for one last set of pictures, Haruhi's father moved to adjust the floral arrangement which those Hitachiin-boys-from-back-in-high-school had so beautifully set in her hair.

Moving forward, the throng of people slowly began to fade away when she had been caught by the shoulder from behind.

"Takashi! So you made it, after all."

"Of course."

Delighted by the sight of her old friend and sometimes law mentor, she waved the rest of her party ahead without her, giving him her undivided attention. He cracked the slightest of smiles while pulling a wrapped parcel from behind his back.

Haruhi accepted the gift, assuming by its size and shape to be unwrapping what was no doubt a carefully chosen book. Tearing the paper away, her heart skipped a beat at realizing just how wrong she had been.

Encased between two pieces of glass, a tattered and yellowed piece of paper looked back at Haruhi. Old and weathered, the drawing was familiar, the kanji alongside it more so.

"Takashi, this isn't what I think it is?"

"It is."

Looking him in the eye, Haruhi's thoughts shifted to a day long since gone by.

_One by one, the club members said their goodbyes while making their way the exit. Haruhi, who had been gathering dishes, gave an embarrassed laugh and said thank you to the amused maid who shooed her away from the mess._

_She took to exploring the rest of the private library—one of the few non-traditional rooms in the Morinozuka home—instead. She stopped in front of a mounted display case, in awe of what perched inside._

"_If I had made thy proffered arm  
A pillow for my head  
For but the moment's time, in which  
A summer's dream had fled,  
What would the world have said?"_

_Takashi came up beside her, content to be listening to Haruhi sing the poem under her breath._

"_My mother used to read to me from the Hyakunin Isshu at night. After she died, I started reading it by myself. Sometimes to my father."_

_He simply nodded, feeling that for the occasion he had not proper enough words to say._

"_Takashi, these poems are close to a thousand years old. Where did these come from?"_

_Gesturing toward the wall in front of them, the two of them gazed upon the dozens of pages showcased before their eyes._

"_Our family has had them for generations. Some of are close to 150 years old. They're not originals, but I think just as important. My great-great-grandfather handmade these replicas as a gift to his wife. Apparently, for her, inside this poetry was something living and grander."_

_Haruhi nodded. "Well, yeah. It's raw emotion. Someone's feelings recorded once and shared with everyone who will ever come across it thereafter."_

"_Hn. The one you were reading is the one he gave her when he asked that she be his wife."_

"_I see." Haruhi mumbled, not paying too much attention to the point. She was simply happy to be examining the delicate pages up close._

_With an almost invisible shake of his head, Takashi stood alongside her, glancing up at the poems. 'No, Haruhi. Right now I don't think you see at all.'_

Back then, her not seeing had been okay. Barely halfway through high school, there was little reason for her to know what his intentions were really all about. No one needed to know that he'd offered his family home for his and Mitsukuni's final club meeting just so she could notice the poems. And he knew she would.

Now, however, things were different. She had finished law school without any relationships to speak of. Riding on his confidence, patience and hope, he had done the same.

Throughout the years, a countenance had grown between them which he considered nothing short of personal and long-standing. To say the very least, Takashi had grown tired of asking himself what it was he was waiting for.

Haruhi stood there, gently moving the encased poem between her hands. She had been quiet for too long. Standing, anticipating, Takashi turned his gaze toward the sky.

"If I had made thy proffered arm  
A pillow for my head  
For but the moment's time, in which—"

"I want more than a moment's time."

She gripped the sides of the page's glass to steady her hands. For too many years, Haruhi had focused only on her work, refusing to read too far into his words. Where was the sense in misinterpreting his kindness? But now...

"Takashi?"

He stepped closer to her, moving to grasp the gift in her hand. "Haruhi. Do you even know how long I've been in love with you?"

She let escape a nervous laugh as she felt her every particle of herself light up inside.

"Ehm. I'm going to guess for quite some time?"

Takashi moved forward, embracing her, relishing the quaver which he was certain no one had ever heard in her voice before.

"Marry me, Haruhi?"

Overcome, she wrapped one arm around his waist while the other held the plated poem between their chests. Tears danced down her face as Haruhi muttered an incredibly happy, "yes."

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Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!

By the way... The _The Hyakunin-isshu _is an anthology of 100 Japanese poems. The one I used is called "The Lady in Waiting Suwo." Here's a link to it, and the authoress' information. :)


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